


Just a Little Nudge

by Sovereign_Tea



Series: Twitter Prompts [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, McHanzo - Freeform, Sledding, Twitter Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 10:35:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16890939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sovereign_Tea/pseuds/Sovereign_Tea
Summary: Hanzo and Genji are horrified to find out Jesse has never been sledding before.





	Just a Little Nudge

**Author's Note:**

> This was a break from writing Duties+Burdens. Prompted by @Honaluli on twitter who wanted a fic about McCree having never been sledding before having grown up in the desert. I hope you all enjoy it. It certainly was different to write something that doesn't involve character death or "adult acts" for once. Haha.
> 
> Since tumblr is kind of falling apart, I probably won't be too entirely active on there anymore. The blog will be up, and I'll reblog some stuff here and there (if my blog isn't taken down). But an easier way to follow me would be my new twitter- https://twitter.com/DarkModeTea  
> Follow me there and keep on the look out--I might ask for more short prompts soon.

There was just something about snow that made Hanzo feel warm despite himself. A blanket of pristine white that coated anything left outside, purity in its rawest form. In his adult years, he would comment that snowfall made it easy to track prey--both of the animal and human variety--but his fondness of snow came far before he was looking for easy tricks as an assassin. Hanamura was just at the right latitude where the summers weren't scorching and the winters weren't too bitterly cold, although they did get their fair share of snow, especially in December and January. Some of his fondest memories from his childhood consisted of his mother and the servants bundling him and his kid brother up in the puffiest jackets they could find, shoving hats down over the crowns of their head and ears, and seemingly finding every heavy fabric they could to cover the boys' bodies with before shooing them outside. Genji always ran around, laughing loudly; he took great joy in running through the gardens and messing up the perfectly laid out snow. Hanzo much preferred walking slowly through the small dunes, admiring the snow clinging to everything and all the water turned to ice as it dripped off cherry blossom branches. And despite the sometime fridget temperatures he got to look forward to sitting under the kotatsu with a hot mug of tea when he came back inside. At that point usually he would get a tangerine to peel, and Genji--as hyper and excitable as he was--would often drift off to sleep beside him.

  
Standing on the porch of one of Overwatch's Canadian save houses brought back those memories as if they had just happened yesterday. Beyond the safety of the cozy log cabin there were rolling hills--some being rather steep by the looks of it, caged in by thick green evergreens stretching to the horizon. Such a scene was not unique to Canada by any means, but just how fresh and perfect the snow from the night before lay on top of the hills made him sigh nostalgically. He could practically hear his mother yelling after him and Genji as they raced up to the top of one of the hills on the property, sleds in hand, ready to skid to the bottom. And the scent--they didn't have conifers at the Hanamura estate, but the fresh wet smell of snow was universal it seemed along with that cold bite to the air. Hanzo stood with his arms crossed, boots only inches from the snow, scarf yanked up to his nose. He almost looked like a dragon with that puffs of breath rolling up from the red and gold scarf he wore (a present that looked suspiciously like a familiar serape).

  
The archer was just about to close his eyes, to lose himself in the silence of the cold, bright afternoon, when the glass slider behind him opened noisily. His brother stumbled through along with the cowboy, both laughing about something or other. Hanzo sighed. There goes the silence.

  
"Oh!" Genji's metallic voice sounded delighted. "It stopped snowing?"

  
They had all been in the Canadian wood hunting down one of Mei's orbital weather do-dads when a small snow storm had kicked up. Tracer had been unable to get close to land the ORCA so they had to sit tight for the night. Luckily they Genji, Hanzo, McCree, Mei, and Zenyatta had been able to find their way to a close by the safe house that Overwatch had kept up until its fall. The cabin itself was not a small thing like one would think, but rather a multiroom structure more akin to a small ski lodge. It had several rooms--enough to house a team--with a moderately sized kitchen, and dining area, and even a lounge. It had taken a little fiddling in the dead of night to get the power turned back on but between Zen's and Genji's night vision they had managed. It had been dark still when most of the team went to bed, so they had yet to see the beauty the storm had laid out before them. Oddly enough despite the cold and the lack of power in the beginning, Hanzo had slept like a log. He had shared a room with McCree, with the cowboy stretched out next to him, their backs almost touching under the thick down comforter. And while he had expected his over active mind to keep him up all night with 'what ifs' concerning McCree, he had actually found the man's presence nice and warm, causing him to drift off not too soon after resting his tired head on the pillow.

  
McCree looked less than impressed with the state of the outdoors. From his bulky flannel coat he pulled a cigar and a lighter and fumbled to try and get the fire to light--Hanzo wound up taking it from him in his less bulky gloves and lighting the end for him. A mutter of thanks came before he began huffing on it. "Thank god. Don't know what we would have done if it kept snowing."

  
Genji had spoted a large cabinet of some sort attached to the side of the cabin and had decided began rumaging through it, leaving Hanzo to stand beside the man. Their introduction many months ago had been...strained to say the least, given that Genji was the gunslinger's best friend and Hanzo had damn near murdered him, but over dozens of missions and months together, McCree had seemingly put the past behind him; they were, as Genji liked to say "cool". But even so...

  
Hanzo's dark amber eyes subly skimmed over the American. He was handsome--no use in denying that. He was shaggy and unkept in a roguish way that Hanzo himself could never pull off with how uptight he was. Jesse McCree had a smile that wormed its way through Hanzo's cold outter walls, and after a long mission, or even just a rough day, seeing the man grinning or laughing set Hanzo's heart fluttering. Not to mention he was several inches taller than McCree and was bulky in a way that filled out those flannel shirts of his mighty fine--Oh no he had been caught staring. Hanzo pulled his scarf up a little higher. "Do you not like the cold?"

  
McCree rolled his eyes, brows drawn together with that line between them that came with him being displeased. "The cold ain't what bothers me darlin'. It's all this damn," he gestured out towards the hills, "snow." He huffed on his cigar before letting out a stream of smoke. "New Mexico didn't see a lot of snow. Desert sure got cold as hell sometimes--night time out in the desert can get deadly. But we didn't have to deal with any of this shit."

  
Hanzo couldn't help the chuckle, and if McCree's face was anything to go off of, he hadn't been expecting the noise or the crinkles a the corners of his eyes. The light flush of color on the man's cheeks was interesting though.  
McCree continued. "It's wet, it's messy--gets everywhere. Makes it dangerous to do damn near anything outdoors..."

  
"Anija! Look what I found!"

  
Genji's excited Japanese had Hanzo turning away from the cowboy. "What?" The cyborg was pulling an object out of the large cabinet. It was fairly large and made of some sort of laminated wood--probably to keep the moisture out. On either side on the bottom were bright red metal pieces that ran down the legth of the boards before jutting out and curving upwards. A worn white pieces of rope was tied to another strip of wood running horizontally at the front. Hanzo stared. "Is that a sled?"

  
He couldn't see because of the face mask, but he was sure that Genji was beaming with delight. "Just like the ones we had as kids--just bigger." Genji placed the one he was holding down beside him and pulled out two more identical ones. "There's a couple more in here--"

  
The American eyed them skeptically. "Sleds?"

  
His earlier comment rang out in Hanzo's head about the lack of snow in New Mexico, but Genji beat him to the punch. "Have you never been sledding before?"

  
Smoke was blown out the corner of McCree's mouth. "Ain't been around much snow, 'cept for during missions--"

  
"This is a crime," Genji gasped. Always theatrics with this one. "I can't believe you've never been sledding. What did you do in the winter?!"

  
McCree rolled his eyes and puffed on his cigar. "Thanked my lucky stars it wasn't one hundred plus damn degrees any more."

  
Hanzo took one of the sleds and ran his hands down its top. It was smooth and didn't feel as though it had rotted or anything despite the years since Overwatch disbanded...Memories surfaced of chasing after Genji, laughing and carrying on in the snow until their fingers and noses were numb and the sun was setting. When he looked up he could tell Genji was watching him through his visor. What was he thinking? Were the memories from the winters of their childhood still tender and precious to him as they secretly were to Hanzo?

  
"Come."

  
McCree's eyes flashed away from Genji to settle on Hanzo who was holding out the sled to him. "Pardon?"

  
Hanzo nodded at him and pressed the sled into his hand so McCree had no choice but to take it. The archer then reached back and grabbed another sled. He took a step off the porch, testing the depth of the snow. It was probably a good two feet--enough to be fun, yet inconvient to walk. The snow crushed under his boots as he sunk down into it a little. He jerked his head for McCree to follow him and began walking a path out to one of the taller hills in the clearing. There was a muttering of "god damn crazy ass Shimadas", but the crack of ice and shuffle of snow let Hanzo know the gunslinger was following him. Genji remained on the porch, his goofy smile obscured from view by his visor.

  
The trek up the hill was the worst part. The wind was still doing, tossing up particles of snow into their faces as they trudged through the thick wet snow to the top. McCree looked uncharacteristcally nervous; the sled was hugged to his broad chest when they finally made it to the top, and his eyes were already carving out the slop of the hill. Somewhere along the way, he had snubbed out his cigar but he looked like he still wanted something to nibble on or fidget with."So uh, how's this work partner?"

  
Hanzo huffed. "Relax, for one." McCree looked like he was about to get smart with the archer, so Hanzo held up a hand. "Just...put the sled on the ground...this side pointback where he just were...and then you can either sit or lay on it."

  
McCree let the sled plop to the ground before cautiously climbing on. The sight was hilarious--a big bulky cowboy trying to squeeze onto the sled. He wiggled around a bit--a sight that made Hanzo's mouth go dry--before stilling, satisfied he was as comfortable as he was going to get. Hanzo couldn't help himself as his eyes roamed over those broad shoulders, down the slope of that flannel clad back. They had started as strangers and now...Jesse McCree trusted him to teach him something new, something that seemed to make him at least somewhere nervous. They had shared a couple...moments in private consisting of lingering looks, conversations that lasted far longer than they had any right, and sometimes Hanzo liked to think that maybe that light feeling he felt in his chest around the cowboy might even be reciprocated. He was loathe to admit, but he liked the cowboy. There was a charm the other man possessed that had Hanzo's tongue tied in knots and his stomach rippling with butterflies half the time. Aside from that southern way of talking, he had the mannerisms of a man who would not be rushed to do anything unless he very much willed it on his own--and as someone who had not willed most of his life choices, Hanzo deeply respected that. And those eyes that were turning to him now, a honey kind of brown...they were beautiful.

  
"So uh..now--"

  
The push had been unexpected.

  
A palm quickly smacked against McCree's back with enough force to give the sled the momentum it needed. Oh, Hanzo was going to get an earful later. McCree's screams and hollers could be heard all the way up at the cabin, bouncing off of every surface as he jetted down the hill. The man fumbled for a grip on the string at the head of the sled, attempting to draw it in to a stop as one would a horse. But unfortunately the swift yank the man gave it would not bring it to the stop he wanted. He had almost reached the bottom, but the pull to the strings had McCree crashing into a large pile of snow they had made from the snow covering the porch. Hanzo was smirking as he hopped on his own sled and gracefully made his way down the hill, reaching out to grab McCree's hat he lost along the way, and coming to a perfectly executed stop near where McCree was face first in the snow. Genji was on his back on the porch absolutely beside himself and howling with laughter.

  
Hanzo tried to hide the smirk behind his hand as he got off his sled. "Are you...alright?"

  
To McCree's credit, he picked himself up with all due grace and swatted the snow off himself, all the while hiding his expression from Hanzo. "Y' got my hat?"

  
He at least the manners to fluff the snow off of it before handing back. "McCree--"

  
McCree snatched the hat back and shoved it back down on his head. For a moment dread crawled up Hanzo's throat. Was he mad? Had he gone too far by pushing him? But then McCree's stern facade cracked and he erupted in laughter to match Genji's. "Boy, that was a rush! What have I been missing all these years?" he laughed, clapping Hanzo on the shoulder hard enough to make him stagger. "Race you back up?"

  
The comment caught Hanzo off guard. Again? But soon he was picking up his own sled and having to trek back up the hill to keep up with McCree.

  
Again and again they both raced down the hill, the American laughing light heartedly like a child. Soon he was trying to learn how to not only control the direction, but to go fast and faster. It was the most fun Hanzo had in a long time. Genji had long went in the house, leaving the two of them to their own devices. The final time they went cascading down the hill, Hanzo ended up crashing similiarly to how McCree did during the initial shove. He found a gloved hand helping him up--one he took eagerly. What he wasn't expecting was the bearded face ducking down close to his. McCree's eyes were half lidded, and so close Hanzo could see the cinnamon like splattering of freckles dusted across his cheeks. Face to face Hanzo's breath hitched. They had come close like this before once in the Gibraltar kitchen--they had been drunk sure and leaning on the table as their vision swam. This was different. Hanzo felt a soft touch at his wrist, a gentle "stay with me". The kiss was petal soft, a gentle press of their lips together before McCree was pulling away and Hanzo was aching for more. Especially after Hanzo saw the gentle smile tugging at his lips.

  
"Hey Han?"

  
It took a couple swallows for Hanzo's mouth to sort itself out. "Yes?"

  
McCree gently pushed some hair out of Hanzo's flushed face, that tender smile still on his lips. "Don't push me next time or you'll regret it."

  
The words fell over Hanzo, and not but a moment later he was reeling back as McCree tried to tackle him into the snow. Hanzo shrieked and kicked out as the snow was dumped on his face and down his shirt. Revenge was a dish best served cold it would seem.

  
By the time they wandered back inside, their clothes were soaked and both were breathless, but nobody had to know it was because their struggle had dissolved into a flurry not of snow, but of kisses.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
